


St. Valentine or: How Katniss Learned to Love Being Secretly Admired

by ktface3



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Secret Admirer, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktface3/pseuds/ktface3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a bit of fluff for you to enjoy on Valentine's Day. The title is a reference to the movie, Dr. Strangelove--not that the story has anything to do with that film, just that the title “Secret Admirer” was a little too generic for my taste.</p>
<p>This is rated for teens and up due to some language. (What! No smut? Who are you, and what have you done with ktface3??) Actually, for those who follow The Highest Bidder, my next chapter in that story more than makes up for the lack of smut here. Stay tuned for that. ;)</p>
<p>This is being published unbeta’ed, because I had the inspiration for this story too late to get it to my beta in time--any mistakes you find in here are entirely my own, because you know Phantom_Serenity would've been all over that shit. Enjoy!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	St. Valentine or: How Katniss Learned to Love Being Secretly Admired

I sit in my desk and watch the snow start to fall more heavily outside. Great. All the animals will be burrowed and there won’t be anything for me to catch today. I was lucky to have taken down that deer earlier in the week, or else we’d have nothing until the snow subsides.

I glance up at the clock lazily. One more class to go and then it’s the weekend. I sure hope the snow doesn’t last…

“Hey Katniss.” Peeta Mellark turns around in his seat to face me, a cheerful smile on his face. He and I have never been close, but we’re cordial with each other. He saved me and my family from starving almost four years ago when he gave me some burnt bread. I thanked him for it the next day, and since then we’ve grown into acquaintances. This is not a thing that usually happens between Seam kids and merchant kids, but Peeta’s nice to just about everybody, and once I started hunting, his father became a regular purchaser of my squirrels.

“What did you think of the history reading?” he asks, making polite conversation. 

I shrug. “The Dark Days are always a treat to read about.” 

“Oh I know. They’re so depressing,” he agrees with a chuckle.

Our teacher, Ms. Walsh, calls our attention to the front of the class. “Good afternoon, students. A quick reminder before we begin today’s discussion. As you may remember, next Friday is Valentine’s Day—”

“How could anyone forget?” I mumble to myself. The hallways have been littered in fliers and pink crepe paper for weeks, advertising the Valentine’s Day Dance. Peeta turns his head in my direction and smiles at my joke, but then I catch Ms. Walsh eyeing me and I bury my head in my notebook. 

“Valentine’s Day is a very old holiday that dates back to before the fall of North America,” she continues. “It celebrates a saint from thousands of years ago who performed forbidden marriages. He was martyred for these great acts of love, and now we celebrate him for having the courage to perform these acts. Class, I would like to challenge each of you, in the spirit of Saint Valentine, to be courageous, and perform great acts of love this Valentine’s Day. Now, onto the Dark Days…”

Later, on the walk home with Gale, I’m able to get my gripes out:

“The Capitol only funds all these stupid dances in order for horny teenagers to have an excuse to bump uglies and start a new generation of workers and Hunger Games tributes as soon as humanly possible,” I rant to him. “And they have the nerve to disguise it as love! Do you know what love is? It’s what you and I do for our families every day, risking our lives to put food on our tables.” 

“Catnip, you know I agree with you on most Capitol-hating issues. And I agree that what we do for our families is really what unconditional love is all about. But, in this case, I think what they’re emphasizing is _romantic_ love. And really, what’s so wrong with a little romance every once in a while?” 

I should’ve known he’d feel that way. 

“Says the king of the slag heap,” I retort, elbowing him in the ribs. “Is that how you convince girls to sleep with you, by calling everything romantic?” 

“That, and my devastatingly handsome good looks,” he replies, waggling his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes and pretend to gag.

“Well _I’m_ smart enough to realize that romance, sooner or later, goes away. Whether two people eventually get sick of each other, or stress becomes too much, or one of them dies—”

I cut myself off when I realize the road on which my tongue is headed. Gale looks pointedly at me.

“You know what I mean,” I finish lamely. “Romance isn’t reality.” 

“But man, is it ever great to be swept up into the fantasy,” Gale sighs, clutching his chest and looking off into the distance. I can’t help but roll my eyes once more.

The snow eventually melts and I am somewhat successful over the weekend, bagging several squirrels, a few rabbits, and a plump groosling who forgot to fly south for the winter. I keep thinking about Valentine’s Day, and how I can show my mother and Prim what real love is, instead of this romantic crap.

Perhaps I’ll actually attempt to cook dinner instead of just getting the meat for it. That will surely be a disaster, but they’ll appreciate the effort.

I slog into school the next Monday morning, knowing I have a full week ahead of me before I can be out in the woods all day again, and I wonder to myself how I’ll survive yet another week in this hell hole, especially with all these paper hearts stuck onto every surface.

Setting down my backpack at my feet, I turn the combination at my locker and open it, and I am stunned at what I find. 

Sitting in front of my schoolbooks, in all its pink and red, Valentine’s glory, is a note. A love note. On very nice cardstock. I inch closer to my locker, blocking the view of any prying eyes, and read the message:

_Katniss—_

_I find myself unable to hold back the dam of my emotions any longer. I must confess, I am deeply and utterly in love with you. It is all consuming—when you walk by, I am drawn to you. When you speak, I hear enchanting music. When I witness how you care so profoundly for your friends and your family, I am crushed underneath the weight of love._

_It is agony to be in love with you, my radiant, indomitable Katniss, because I fear no matter what I do, you will not accept the love I have to give you. And if, in the end, you do not reciprocate my feelings, I will still love you, and know that your decision has made you happy. For your happiness is imperative to mine, even if it means I must live without you._

_I implore you, however, to consider the tokens I leave for you in the coming days, and know that they are only a small fraction of the love I would give to you over a lifetime._

_Eternally yours,_

_Your Secret Admirer_  

“Holy shit,” I breathe, clutching the note to my chest. I glance over my shoulders to see if anyone is watching me, but of course, no one is. Usually, I remain unnoticed, a wallflower who enjoys coasting under the radar, just biding my time until I graduate. But this epic love note changes the entire game. _Someone_ has noticed me, and is so in love with me that it borders on obsessive and stalkerish. I mean, he broke into my locker, for god sakes!

Now, fearing nothing is safe in my locker, I stuff the note in between some loose papers in my backpack. At least I’ll be able to keep tabs on it and not let anyone see it until I can get it home and figure out what to do with it then.

I find myself sneaking glances at it throughout the day, especially in those classes where I sit in the back. I read it and reread it, looking for clues as to who may have written it. I start to think how this could all be some elaborate prank; that some a-hole boys are just messing with me, trying to see if they can make emotionless Katniss swoon. Well if that’s the case, I sure as hell won’t let that happen.

Gale meets me at my locker at the end of the day, and he can tell something is different.

“You look strange,” he comments, “like you’ve just seen a ghost. All the color is gone from your face.”

“Is it?” I ask as nonchalantly as possible.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Totally fine, just probably nerves or something,” I explain as I quickly cram my books into my backpack. “I have an English test in a few days.”

I throw my backpack over my shoulder and shut my locker tightly, checking the handle a few times to make sure the lock is actually functional.

“Hey, you dropped some papers,” Gale says, leaning down to pick them up. I gasp when I notice what’s between my Math homework and an old History exam. “What the—”

“Gale, those are _mine_. Give them to me, _now_.”

“What _is_ this??”

“ _Now_ , Gale!”

“Holy shit, is this real!?”

I snatch the papers from his hands and stuff them into my backpack, feeling my cheeks turning flaming red. 

“I don’t know what it is,” I whisper harshly as I push him out the front doors of the school. “It showed up in my locker this morning. I think it’s some kind of prank.”

“That’s one hell of a prank,” Gale says, emphasizing his point with a low whistle. “The heavy cardstock, the poetic writing… if someone’s playing a prank on you, they are going to great lengths to be convincing.”

I shake my head in disagreement. “It’s _not_ convincing. Because no one pays attention to me like that. If they did, I definitely would’ve noticed by now.”

“I dunno…” Gale protests, “maybe you aren’t _romantic_ enough to see it.”

He laughs at his joke, and I shut him up by shoving him off the curb. 

But by the next day, I start to think that maybe he could be right. I open my locker first thing in the morning to find a large bouquet of colorful roses, and another note. Upon further inspection, I discern that they are actually primroses. 

_Katniss—_

_The love you show your sister every day astounds me. I have seen you countless times put her happiness before your own, and I know just how much she means to you. I promise, if you accept my love, I will care for your sister too, and ensure the health and happiness of you both. Consider these primroses as a symbol of this promise._

_Eternally yours,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

Shit, he played the sister card. Whoever he is, this guy is _good_.

I stand there for half a second, gazing at the beautiful blooming roses and thinking of his promise in the note. Is this still a prank? It doesn’t feel like one anymore.

“Hey Catnip—woah, are those from the secret admirer?” Gale asks too loudly as he approaches my locker.

I spin around, hiding the bouquet with my back as I give him a stern look.

“Care to say that again?” I sneer. “I don’t think everyone in the district heard you.”

“You have a secret admirer, Katniss?” Delly Cartwright asks, closing her locker a few doors down and sauntering over to us. She peers over me and catches sight of the bouquet. “Oh my god,” she cries, “those are _beautiful!”_

I cover my face in my hands, wondering how long it’ll be before everyone knows. Delly is the biggest loudmouth in school—in both a gossipy and decibel sense—and is sure to tell this juicy nugget to anyone who’ll listen. 

“She got a really _passionate_ love note from him yesterday too,” Gale adds with a grin, securing his ill-fated, slow and painful death.

I glare at him as Delly squeals, “Oh, Katniss, you’re so lucky! A secret admirer, wow! I wish someone would go through all that trouble for me. It’s all so romantic!” 

“Yeah, well…” I reply lamely. I was so certain this whole thing had been a prank. But his note today seems so sincere; I can actually feel my suspicion evaporating.

By the end of the day, word has spread throughout the school, as I predicted. I get looks and nudges from kids as I walk down the hallway, all of them grinning stupidly at me. I open my locker to gather my things, grumbling under my breath. I know Delly has good intentions—she’s one of the nicest people in school—but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to beat the snot out of her for running her mouth.

I try and carefully place the bouquet in my backpack without crushing it, knowing it’ll make my sister smile. 

“Look what I have for you,” I announce as I show the flowers to Prim at home that afternoon.

Her eyes light up and a wide smile spreads across her face. “Oh, Katniss, they’re so pretty! But, are you sure you want to give me the bouquet of flowers that your _secret admirer_ gave you?”

She snorts, trying desperately to contain her laughter, but she fails. I can’t believe the news made it to the lower school.

“All right, that’s enough,” I say sternly.

“Did you ever in a million years think you’d have a secret admirer?” she asks. She knows how absurd this situation is, and I agree with her. 

I shake my head. “No, I never thought this would happen to me in a million years.”

“You must be flattered by it though,” she insists. “He’s trying to prove himself to you.”

I sigh, “Can’t he do it just by taking me aside and talking to me like a normal person?”

“Hmm, I doubt it. You’re very intimidating,” Prim says matter-of-factly.

I stick my tongue out teasingly at her. “Come on, Little Duck, let’s put these in water before they wilt.”

When I approach my locker on Wednesday, there is a small group of girls standing around it. They’re all giggling. It’s unnerving.

“Oh, Katniss!” Delly extricates herself from the throng and comes up to me. “Sorry about the crowd, we’re all just so curious to see what your secret admirer left you today!”

I sigh and hang my head, knowing I’ll never be able to shoo these girls away. I turn the combination and lift the handle, shutting my eyes for fear of what elaborate trinket is waiting for me today.

I hear the ‘ohs’ and ‘hmms’ of the girls around me, and open one eye. There sits a brown paper bag with a note similar to the others resting in front of it. I grab the note and scan it quickly before Delly snatches it out of my hand and reads it to the girls:

_Katniss—_

_One of the qualities I admire most about you is your will to survive. You feed not only yourself, but your entire family, and demonstrate tremendous effort to provide what is necessary to live. Please consider this gift as a pledge that I would not only work with you to provide those necessities, but I would also treat you to the luxuries of life, whenever I could. For someone who strives as much as you do, you deserve to indulge yourself._

_Eternally yours,_

_Your Secret Admirer_  

“Open the bag, Katniss!” Delly squeals beside me, clutching onto my arm and bouncing up and down.

I grab the bag and peer inside to see its contents. “It’s pastries. All sorts of pastries, and little chocolates…”

The sighs and murmurs around me give me the verdict of popular opinion.

“I wish someone loved me this much!”

“She is so lucky!” 

“Who is this guy? He’s so charming!”

I glance back down in the bag and notice a cheese bun sitting near the top, and my mouth starts to salivate. My favorite. I pluck it from inside the bag and take a bite, and the warm cheese melts in my mouth. I hum in satisfaction and devour the rest of it, leaving the bag in my locker. 

I share most of the rest of the treats with Gale and Madge at lunch, my mind now spinning with possibilities of who could be making these grand gestures.

“It’s got to be a merchant boy, considering how much everything costs,” Gale concludes.

“Maybe not,” Madge pipes up, plucking a chocolate from the bag. “If a boy from the Seam loved her that much, I would hope he’d understand how worthwhile it is to shell out some cash to impress her.”

Gale gives her an incredulous look. “Madge, I hate to break this to you, but guys from the Seam are sensible. We’ll shower you ladies with gifts, of course, but we know we don’t need to spend a lot of money to do it.”

“Oh really?” Madge inquires, arching her eyebrow. “Like how?”

“Like bringing a girl her favorite fruit,” Gale offers, leaning in and emphasizing each word slowly. “Unless, of course, once spring comes, she’d rather not have strawberries.”

Madge blanches. “Oh no. No, no, she rather would. But what _I’m_ saying is, perhaps it would do well for a Seam boy to take a girl on a _real_ date, and not _another_ visit to the slag heap.”

“Hey, that slag heap is the classiest place in the district—”

“Guys! Guys!” I yell over them. “What the _hell_ are you two talking about?”

The exchange an embarrassed glance, and then it dawns on me.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, “how long has _this_ been going on?”

“A few weeks,” Gale answers, then Madge takes an elbow to his stomach. “I mean, months,” he wheezes the correct answer. “A few months. Geez, Undersee, you’ve got bony elbows.”

“We wanted to tell you,” Madge explains to me, “but you never like to talk about this kind of stuff, so it was hard to bring it up.” 

Now I feel guilty. Have I really been that frigid when it comes to relationships? My own two best friends have been dating, and they didn’t even know how to broach the subject with me!

“I’m sorry guys,” I tell them sincerely. “I know I’m kind of aloof when it comes to this stuff.”

“All the more reason you should give this secret admirer a chance,” Madge says imploringly. “You know, being loved by someone isn’t as crippling as you think it is. This guy clearly knows about the sentimental things in life. Maybe he can teach you a thing or two.”

She winks at me, and I feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks.

“Or at the very least, he can take you on a trip to the slag heap,” Gale jokes, then receives a pounding from Madge’s petite fists.

“You just had to go and ruin that nice moment, didn’t you!” she hollers. I laugh at their antics, and can’t help but think what a good couple they make.

Later that day, I decide to do a little investigating.

With only a few pastries left in the bag, I take my seat in the last class of the day and tap Peeta Mellark on the shoulder. He turns and smiles at me, and I hold out the bag to him.

“Want one?” I offer.

“Oh, sure. Thanks.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out an apple tartlet. He munches on it quietly as I try and think of a good way to question him.

“Do you know who bought these for me?” I finally blurt out, and he chokes slightly on the crumbly crust.

He swallows and asks, “Someone bought them for you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know who. Someone’s been leaving stuff in my locker all week, actually. For Valentine’s Day,” I admit quietly. I can feel my face heating up.

The corners of his mouth turn upward just slightly. “Oh. That’s nice,” he remarks.

“Yeah. It is, I guess.” I smile along with him, considering the lovely notes and thoughtful gifts. Then I remember my investigation. “But, um, I figured since these came from your family’s bakery, you might have a clue as to who bought them.”

Peeta shakes his head. “Sorry. I haven’t dealt with any customers this week; I’ve been stuck in the kitchen working on Valentine’s Day sweets.” 

“Oh. Well, okay. Thanks anyway.”

“Of course. Anytime.” He smiles again and pops the last of the tartlet in his mouth just in time for Ms. Walsh to enter the classroom and begin the day’s lesson.

On Thursday morning, the scene outside my locker is ridiculous. Girls and boys of all grades are milling around the hallway, waiting for my secret admirer to blow them all away with his spectacular displays of affection. How did this become my life? How did this suddenly catapult me into the throngs of popularity? I’m still the same girl as I always was—do his elaborate confessions of love make me desirable in the eyes of others?

“There she is!” Delly shrieks, and everyone begins to cheer.

It sure seems like they do.

I approach my locker reluctantly and turn the lock, and with each click of the combination, I my excitement grows. I can feel myself feeding off the thrills of everyone around me—the wait is killing me now!

Once it’s unlocked, I throw open the door, and my eyes widen at what I see.

There, sitting with the customary note, is a leather quiver filled with a new set of arrows.

My heart sinks. These are _illegal_. Several people avert their eyes, and I can see one girl in my peripheral vision run away from the scene.

Delly shuts my locker for me, shouting, “Okay guys, nothing to see here. Let’s get to class.” Once the crowd has dispersed, she leans in and whispers, “I’m _really_ sorry about all that, Katniss. I had no idea something like that would be in there.”

“It’s okay,” I reply coolly, even though I’m anything but. I can’t believe how many people saw that gift! How could my secret admirer be so stupid! My mind starts to spin, now thinking this is _much_ more than a prank. Someone wants to get me into _serious_ trouble.

I peak back into my locker and quickly pull out the accompanying note:

_Katniss—_

_You have pierced my heart with your arrows of love, and I have fallen prey to your charms. It is not just your silky hair, your full lips, or the curvature of your body that lures me into your snare. It is also your strong will, your selfless nature, and your courageous spirit that entices me. My love for you is as forbidden as the offering I leave for you today, and it is my sincerest wish that these arrows strike their targets as cleanly as you have struck my heart._

_Eternally yours,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

Then, scrawled not as neatly below his signature, is a postscript.

_I’ve noticed the attention these gifts have granted you over the week, and I am truly sorry for that. It was never my intention to thrust you into the public eye; I know discretion is important to you. Please, do not give up on me yet._

Well, crap. He isn’t trying to get me in trouble after all. He must’ve added the postscript later, after seeing the fuss that was being made about his gifts. He really does seem to understand me…

But that still doesn’t let him off the hook for giving me something that I could be executed for.

“Oh _please_ , Catnip, you wouldn’t get executed for that,” Gale tries to reason with me as I store the quiver with my bow in the woods later that afternoon. “Everyone in the district has benefitted from our hunting, including those filthy Peacekeepers. Not a soul would rat on us. Stop being so dramatic.”

“I guess you’re right,” I sigh.

“And he did say he was sorry. It’s clear that he meant well; things just got a little out of hand.”

“Wait, why are you defending him?” I ask, suddenly angry that my best friend isn’t taking my side. “I get that I freaked out more than I should’ve, but the bottom line is, _he_ should’ve thought things through a little better, and not put contraband in my locker in the first place!”

“Don’t you see that he’s giving you the okay to go hunt?!” Gale raises his voice at me. “He is _literally_ giving you the tools! He _likes_ that about you!”

He takes the note from my backpack and shakes it at me. “What he’s saying to you is, you don’t have to change _one_ thing about yourself for him. He loves you and respects you for _exactly_ who you are. You think anyone else in this district would feel the same way? You think other guys would approve of the shit we pull? What we do is _dangerous_ , Katniss! Madge nags me all the time about ‘fearing for my safety,’ especially since her father is the mayor and it would ‘look bad’ if her boyfriend was caught hunting beyond the limits of the district. And that’s something we have to work out in our own time, but _you_ …” He sighs, “You managed to interest someone who won’t try to stand in your way like that. You’re _so_ lucky, Catnip. Don’t let this one little error on his part ruin what could be the chance of a lifetime for you.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, his rant finished, and waits for my reply.

Finally, after chewing on my lip for a while, I tell him, “Fine. He gets a pass on this one.”

“Good.” Gale nods in approval.

I barely get any sleep that night, turning Gale’s words over in my mind. I had never considered anyone accepting me for who I am, hunting and all. Truth be told, I had never considered anyone even taking an interest in me until this whole thing started. I’d always assumed I would settle down with _someone_ , but it never occurred to me that my relationship with that someone could be anything more than companionate.  But now, I have the chance at love—real, passionate, romantic love—and I owe it to myself to at least give it a chance.

This thought makes me nervous. What if this is my only chance? I _really_ don’t want to screw it all up!

I get up that morning determined, knowing judgment day has finally arrived. It’s Friday, Valentine’s Day, and I know instinctively that this is the day I’ll finally find out who has been breaking into my locker and leaving me gifts and love notes all week. I’ll find out if it was all some elaborate prank, or if it was meant to get me in trouble, or if it was all completely genuine. My body thrums with anticipation.

I have no idea what to expect when I get to school in the morning. Luckily, no one seems to be hanging around my locker after what happened yesterday. Delly says good morning to me as I pass her locker, and gets on her way quickly.

Thank goodness yesterday’s gift scared them all off.

I try to control my trembling fingers as I unlock the door, anxious to see what’s waiting inside for me today. I open it carefully and find only a single note propped up against my books. I take it out and notice another slip of paper hiding behind it—a ticket to the Valentine’s Day Dance tonight.

_Katniss—_

_By now I have spilled my entire heart to you, confessing my deepest emotions and desires. I hope you understand that my intentions are genuine, and it would be my honor if you accept my proposal of love tonight. I would like to reveal my identity at the dance, and will wait the entire night for you at the refreshment table, wearing a red pocket square in my jacket._

_If you do not decide to come, I will understand that you have chosen a different path, and will take pleasure in the happiness that your future will surely bring you. For you are destined for wonderful things, Katniss Everdeen, and I feel lucky simply to know you._

_Eternally yours,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

So, it’ll go down at the dance then. If I even go at all. The dance is awfully public—why would he pick then and there, when he supposedly knows that being in the spotlight makes me uncomfortable?

“But this is your only chance!” Madge argues at lunch. “He says it right there in the note. If you don’t come tonight, he’s giving up on you! You can’t let that happen!”

“Undersee has a point, Catnip,” Gale chimes in. “It sounds like tonight is your only chance.” He looks pointedly at me, obviously alluding to his outburst in the woods yesterday.

Madge slams her hand on the table. “Think about all he’s done for you this week! The flowers! The sweets! The—ahem, _other_ thoughtful gift. And those love notes! Those were _so_ beautiful! You _need_ to show up, and if he doesn’t turn out to be what you expected, then you can let him down gently in person. He deserves at least that much from you, after all the trouble he’s gone through.”

Well, crap. I’ve never thought about it that way. I’m in his debt now, and he deserves for me to show up in person in order to repay him for everything he’s done. I guess I have no choice but to go now.

“It would also give you a chance to ask him how exactly he broke into your locker,” Gale points out, trying to lighten the mood. Madge and I can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Come over to my house after school,” Madge insists. “I’ll let you borrow one of my nicer outfits.”

“Madge, no,” I protest, putting my hands up. “I don’t need to dress up for him. I just need to be myself.”

“But, the dance does have a dress code,” Gale points out, leaving me without a leg to stand on.

I roll my eyes and sigh, “Fine. But nothing too girly.”

That evening, after I’ve cooked my mother and sister a semi-edible meal for Valentine’s Day, my mother offers to braid my hair for the dance. And, feeling generous, I let her. I sit at the dining table as she works, diligently weaving her fingers around the crown of my head.

“I feel so awkward in this,” I comment. “I only ever wear dresses on reaping day.”

“Well you look stunning in it,” my mother assures me. “The color is just lovely on you. This faded rose color. Madge has a good eye.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her that,” I reply, blushing slightly at her compliments.

“Who do you think it’s going to be?” Prim asks, her head resting in her hands and stars in her eyes.

I laugh, “Whoever it is, he’s clearly already won you over.” 

She makes a sour face at me in response, and I laugh even harder.

“Katniss, it’s obvious from his affectionate gestures this week that this boy cares very deeply about you,” she says, placing her hands on my shoulders. “But in the end, you have to do what makes you happy. Don’t feel obligated to return his affections if you don’t feel something. You have to follow your own heart.”

“That’s what you did with Father, right?” Prim asks dreamily.

My mother smiles. “Yes. I followed my heart, and because I did, I was blessed with you amazing girls.”

Her answer hangs in the air as I remember my father, and the happiness he brought us when he was alive. I’m sure it’s what my mother and Prim are thinking of as well.

After a moment of silence, my mother taps my shoulders. “Katniss, come on, you don’t want to be late.”

“Have fun!” Prim cries as I’m pushed out the door.

As I walk with Madge and Gale toward the school’s gymnasium, I can see people pointing and whispering, staring at me. As if I didn’t feel awkward enough in this dress. I start to fidget but Madge smacks my hands.

“Leave the dress alone. You have nothing to worry about.” 

She gives me a reassuring smile as we hand over our slips to the ticket taker and walk inside. The music is so loud I can barely hear myself think, and I cover my ears to block out the noise.

Gale, being conveniently tall, surveys the crowd to see who is waiting near the refreshments. I know he’s spotted whoever is waiting for me because his eyes suddenly widen, and then he gets a goofy look on his face.

“Well? Are you going to tell me who it is?” I yell over the deafening music.

Apparently not. He grins at me like an idiot, then grabs Madge’s hand and escapes with her to the dance floor.

“Go get some punch, Catnip! You look parched!” he shouts over his shoulder at me. 

Jackass.

I can feel eyes on me as I make my way through the crowd toward the refreshment table. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and I find myself practically gasping for breath. I can’t screw this up! I have to follow my heart! God, this is so confusing and nerve-wracking!!

I look forward toward the table, and I stop dead in my tracks. Peeta Mellark is standing there, a red pocket square stuffed in his jacket, shifting his weight from foot to foot anxiously. As if he can sense me standing there, he looks up at me, and a smile overtakes his face.

There is a brief pause in the music, followed by a slower, softer melody.

He quickly makes his way to me, taking my hand in his.

“You came,” he breathes. “You look beautiful. Do you want to dance?”

I nod, still unsure what I think of the whole situation, but knowing I at least owe him a dance. He guides me out onto the floor and pulls me close. We sway to the music, and I hear him sigh contentedly.

“I’m so glad you showed up,” he whispers into my ear. It makes me shiver involuntarily. “I was so worried, especially after I messed up so badly with yesterday. I just wanted you to have something you’d appreciate…”

We move in tandem silently, keeping time with the music. After a beat, Peeta speaks again. “I’ve always felt this way about you, you know. From the time when we started school. On our first day, we were in music class, and the teacher asked who knew The Valley Song, and your hand shot straight up.” He laughs, “And then you sang, and your voice was so beautiful, even the birds fell silent. I’ve been a goner ever since.”

“Then why did you decide to tell me now?” I ask. It feels like I can barely get the words out. 

“I got to thinking about the challenge Ms. Walsh had given us last week, and decided to stop being a coward, holding my feelings in. I wanted to show you great acts of love.”

“All I did for that was make Prim and my mother dinner,” I reply.

He laughs at this, telling me, “See, this is what I was talking about in my letters. You already do so much for them, and still want to do more. You’re truly selfless, Katniss…”

I look up into his eyes then, as he continues to talk, and can see how genuine he’s really being. There is not a hint of malice in them, only sincerity, like always. This means that every gift he gave, every word in those notes, were true. I feel so flattered by it all, so special. He did all of that for _me_. This wonderful guy, with his beautiful blue eyes and soft smile. And how did I never notice how broad his shoulders were? He seems to be as strong as he is sensitive. Being in his arms like this… I enjoy it.

I think I know what my heart is telling me.

“…But I know you might be going along with all of this just to satisfy everyone else,” he continues, “and so if you want to leave, that’s oka—”

I cut him off by pressing my lips against his, giving him my answer. As our kiss deepens, I hear people cheering in our direction, especially Gale and Madge, and I am unable to contain my blush once we pull apart. 

I tell him breathlessly, “No, I want to stay. After those great acts of love you showed me this week, I want repay you by making you feel just as special. Do you… want to be my Valentine?”

“Absolutely. As long as you’ll be mine,” he replies, beaming.

I can’t stop a smile from stretching across my face either, and feeling overwhelmed by the all-consuming powers of love, I pull him close and kiss him deeply once more.


End file.
